


What Dreams May Come

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Dream Sex, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Foxglove Summer, Talking, Talking About Consent, Wet Dream, did i mention porn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Peter is having dreams about Nightingale that are starting to impact on his ability to do his job.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Foxglove Summer.

The dreams started not long after I returned from that wilderness known as Not London. They weren't the first dreams I'd had about Nightingale, but those ones had generally included a magical exam I failed and being kicked out of the Folly (I tried not to think about the implications of that too much), although the one with Nightingale, a white suit and a sewer had been depressingly realistic.

These ones were more intense though and really, really disturbing. Having to burn the evidence on my sheets and pretend I'd been practising in my room because Molly would notice if I had them washed and would definitely notice if I replaced them kind of disturbing.

Except I was having them so regularly that I was starting to enjoy going to bed early and then not getting enough sleep and Nightingale was starting to look worried and I knew it was only a matter of time before he asked me what was wrong and I really, really didn't want that.

What I apparently did want though was my boss to push me onto the bed and fuck me, hard, pinning me down in a way that had me shaking apart in seconds. Or pressing me up against the library shelves and pushing inside me, me begging for him to make me come. Or bend me over one of the benches in the lab and not stop pounding into me even when I came, just taking what he wanted. Or him kissing me against the front door of the Folly, pressing his body close to me, so hot and hard that he came in his trousers.

It was at this point I realised I had a problem.

When I got hard watching Nightingale just talking on the phone, I realised I had a very, very serious problem.

* * * * *

The best thing to do seemed to be to avoid Nightingale as much as possible. Not my smartest moment, I admit, but well, I had apparently stopped thinking with my brain quite a while ago.

I only realised just how much trouble I was in when Nightingale turned up at the Tech Cave with two beers.

“Peter,” he said, and then stopped as if not sure how to proceed. I knew how he felt.

“Sir?”

“I thought, perhaps a drink?”

I stayed in my seat for a moment, checking that I wasn't going to expose myself in any way, and then got up.

“What's the occasion?” I asked, trying for a cheerful smile. Judging by Nightingale's reaction my shot at carefree may have hit demonic clown instead.

“Just checking in,” Nightingale said, a phrase I know he'd heard Beverley say to me. It was strangely endearing, and making me feel things in other embarrassing places.

“Oh,” I replied, opening my mouth to say something else and then realising that I didn't have anything _to_ say.

“Shall we sit?” Nightingale asked.

I nodded and followed him to the couch. He handed over the beer and I was very careful to make sure our fingers didn't touch. Too careful apparently because Nightingale looked sad, and then resolved, which has never boded well for me.

“I think I have to apologise, about my behaviour.”

I blinked. “I'm – what?”

“It was, I assure you, completely accidental.”

I frowned. “The dre- what was accidental? What?”

Nightingale gave me The Look, the one that said he was done with my nonsense. I don't see it as often as you might think.

“I was doing some research in the library and came across an old spell I had forgotten about. I foolishly recreated it only to remember later that evening the side effects it entailed, which is why I had tried to forget all about it in the first place.”

“So, they're not my dreams? They're yours?”

“That would be the unfortunate side effect.”

“What's the purpose of the spell?”

Nightingale looked like he wasn't going to answer and then steeled himself for the battle charge. “It was to, relive a past memory. A pleasant memory, usually.”

“Very pleasant,” I said, before taking a long drag of beer to stop my mouth from doing anything stupid. Like saying anything else.

Nightingale graced me with some epic side-eye. “Quite. But, as I'm sure you've noticed, the spell bled out and...well.” He fiddled with the label on the bottle and I realised that I'd never seen him fidgeting before. It was probably then that I could really see just how worried about this he was.

“Well, okay,” I said, “it's not as if my spells have all gone to plan.”

“I'm your...responsible for your education, Peter. It is not the same thing at all.” He put the bottle on the table with a loud clunk. “I should have better control than this.”

I felt even worse then, because somewhere between the joy he'd felt with this man (I was presuming) and now he'd learnt that he couldn't show any emotion. And I wanted to see dream Nightingale in the flesh, as it were.

“It's not as if I didn't enjoy it,” I said. Then I did a mental double take and wondered just how strong that beer had been.

“Peter, that is not the point,” Nightingale said, before he too seemed to take a moment to realise what I'd just said.

We both stared at each other without saying anything a little too long to be comfortable.

“Were they important to you?” I asked.

Nightingale smiled at my lack of pronoun. “Yes, he was, once. And yes, before you ask, they were memories of real events.”

I couldn't help it, I got hard and bit my lip to stop from shifting and making it obvious. I tried to think about Molly but Nightingale was looking at my lips and I licked them and if he hadn't taken my nod as tacit agreement to kiss me Dr Walid would have had his first confirmed case of spontaneous combustion.

Nightingale kissed like he did everything, with a laser like focus that had me panting and writhing underneath him in a way that would have been embarrassing if it had been anyone else. I managed to maintain enough of my dignity to pull at his tie and shirt, wanting to get those blasted layers off of him.

“We're doing this _here_?” Nightingale asked.

“New memory,” I said, like I'd had a well thought out plan all along.

He half laughed half groaned but thank god he just went with it, hands working at my belt and lips and teeth on my neck, making me rock up into him.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked. “And no, dreams don't count.”

“In that case, not exactly. But I want to. I really, really want to.”

Nightingale paused and I sighed. “Peter. This is -”

“What I want,” I said, trying to make him see that it was. “I know when I'm dreaming. I know when I'm glamoured. You're doing neither. This is _me_ wanting _you_ to bloody move already.”

Nightingale looked at me a little longer and I didn't move, didn't try to influence him in any way, even though I was getting light headed from not trying to pant like I wanted to. I especially didn't want to have the conversation about what exactly my experiences with men had been right now. I just wanted the real Nightingale to look at me the way the dream one had.

And that was another revelation I wasn't going to share just then. But I'd missed him, god I'd missed him when I was away and didn't get to see him every day. Beverley had been a comforting presence but she'd realised as I had that we were never going to do anything other than scratch each other's itches. What I wanted from Nightingale was so much more that that.

A conversation which was going to wait until the end of time if I had anything to do with it.

“I'm still your boss.”

“You're not making me do anything I don't want. Please, _Thomas._ ”

Nightingale's eyes narrowed. He knew I was playing dirty, and I knew I was playing dirty, but I also knew that his heart had definitely sped up when I said his name.

So I said it again. And again. Until he kissed me to shut me up and I smiled into it, shivering as the cold air hit my legs and aching cock as he pushed down my trousers and finally, finally touched me.

I knew I wasn't going to last long, not this time, so I managed to twist myself so that I could get at his erection, pressing into my thigh. He bucked into me as I started to press my hand against him and I could tell the exact moment he realised I was determined to make him come in his trousers because he sighed against my lips and then bit my neck, harder than I thought was strictly necessary.

His hand didn't stop moving though, exerting just the right amount of pressure and then running his thumb against the head and I was coming, groaning so loudly I was worried that Molly might hear and come bursting in, which was enough to make me try and get myself under control.

Nightingale was pressing frantic kisses against my neck and chest and I moved beneath him pressing my knee between his legs and giving him enough friction that he was coming with my name on his lips.

It was the best sound I'd ever heard.

We lay like that for several minutes, most of which must have been uncomfortably sticky for Nightingale, but he didn't complain, just shifted a little to make sure I wasn't getting too squashed. I pressed a kiss to his shoulder, the only point I could reach just then.

“We're talking about this properly in the morning,” Nightingale said.

I wanted to disagree but unfortunately I am, despite frequent appearances to the contrary, a fully functioning adult.

“We are. I won't have had second thoughts by then, though.”

Nightingale twisted a little to look me in the eye and then kissed me, and my world tilted just the way it should have.

“Magic's real,” I said to him, grinning and not caring if he knew what I meant. He did though, of course he did, returning my smile with one that lit up his eyes.

“Yes, Peter, magic is real. And yes, so is this.”

It was better than any other declaration I could have received. No matter what anybody threw at us, we'd be all right. Because we had this and each other, and magic.

Now all we had to do was get back to the main house without Molly seeing us.


End file.
